Prisoner
by AA-Tenks
Summary: When Callie is held captive by the vivaciously ruthless Arizona Robbins, she finds herself thrown into a dark world of passion and thwarted control. Warning: M for sexual themes, violence, and language. Elements of BDSM.


I am not sure if I will take this further despite the misleading blurb. I felt an urge to do an extension of the oneshot I had written previously, so I have done just that. If continued, it will be in brief segments (I have another chapter in the works...)

* * *

"_Comprendo," she told him, nodding as she had, for it was her obligation to understand. To execute. In both senses: To bring about the plan. To kill._

She had understood the command. And she went about executing it. It had gone well, exceptionally well. She brought about the plan, but she had failed to kill.

Two senses, one loss, she thought.

She had not killed.

So she was furious as she struggled with the chains that bounded her hands, wondering how she had gotten caught in such a fucking awful situation. She pulled at the chains again and was frighteningly aware that she was going to die tonight.

She thought that she should probably reflect on her life, contemplate the terror as it ate through her mind, as it bounded her wrists together, pulling her arms up in extreme discomfort. She felt herself tired in the position she was in, tired of it all – the cuts on her ribs had hurt suddenly, excruciatingly.

She should reflect on her life before dying.

Still, she thought, as she watched the decaying wooden door of the dungeon creek open. Still, to be tortured was not a warrior's way to die.

What else were these men going to do, she wondered. She thought it would have been men that entered – ugly, disgusting men with festering boils on their faces, like the many that populated the battlefield, the many that she had killed.

So again, she had been surprised when she saw _her _walk in – the target of her planned execution. The princess of the other side, the other kingdom. The enemy. She had bright blonde hair and striking blue eyes and a strange indentation in her cheeks – marks that Callie had felt charming for a hasty moment, as she watched the woman grin smugly at her.

She watched her now, in her overly decorative gown – _nobility_, she scoffed, her frown deepening as the woman shut the door behind her. She shut the door quietly and approached her now, slowing her steps as she stood in front of her.

But she said nothing. The princess had simply watched her and in turn, she watched her back, her gaze never falling from her eyes. The blonde appeared shorter as she stood in front of her, and she thought she could probably kick her down if her feet were not bound, as well.

"Unescorted, my Lady?" she laughed at the princess, "Do you wish to die?"

"Ah, Calliope," she smiled, reaching out to touch her cheek. But she had not flinched when the blonde's fingernails had grazed her cheek, lightly tracing a cut on her face, "We should have met under brighter circumstances, do you not agree?"

"Oh, we would have, my Lady," Calliope countered, "if only I had slit your throat given the chance."

The princess had only laughed in reply, "Well, it is good then that Karev had shot you when he did, yes?" she asked, poking at the chained woman's shoulder injury. Calliope had flinched at the contact – her wound had already bled profusely and she was surprised to find her arm still had strength to receive touch.

"Does it hurt?" the blonde asked, poking at it again. Calliope flinched again, pulling at her chains and groaning at the contact. The blonde wrapped her hand around the wound and squeezed it now, making the chained woman bark in pain. "It does, doesn't it?"

"Fuck you, Robbins," Calliope growled, tugging closer to her, as if to hurt her, "the whole lot of you."

"I'd wish if you called me Arizona, Calliope," she said, flattening her palm against the woman's wound.

"_Callie._"

"What?" Arizona asked.

"Callie."

She smiled and patted her wound, watching as the woman flinched in pain, "_Calliope._"

"Fuck you."

Arizona frowned at the insult and moved her now bloodied hand to cup Callie's chin. The woman flinched again and the princess moved closer to her, her face in front of her own.

"My father intends to send your hand back on a stake," she informed Callie.

But Callie only watched her, her eyes dark and unmoved – defiance deep within her irises.

"What might you say to that?" Arizona inquired, her eyes icy and bright, yet somehow dull, Callie had thought.

"Fuck. You."

"Would you like to?" she asked. "I wouldn't mind."

"I would die before that crippled leg touched me," Callie retorted and felt a sharp pain in her cheek as Arizona slapped her across the face. The injured woman was surprised at its power and force and felt blood stain the bottom of her lip.

She turned back to look at the princess now, and it seemed her eyes had held nothing but contempt. She backed away and looked at Callie inquiringly, coldly.

She was going to die tonight, she thought, as the blonde surveyed her.

"I should like to keep you."

"What?"

"You will be my prisoner."

"Do not disgrace me further."

"Your life is worth your father's kingdom," she informed her, turning to leave, "So now you belong to me."

"Robbins," Callie started, infuriatingly. She pulled at her chains as the princess opened the door to leave. "Robbins!"

But the door only shut and she felt as though her life had ended just there.

"Robbins!"

She should have been killed.

Not a prisoner to the princess.

###

"Wake up," she heard, unsure of where the voice had been coming from. Her head was pounding and her arms felt incredibly numb. She was sure that she was going to die now, most definitely now, she figured, as she heard the voice bark at her once more. "Wake up!"

She felt a sudden stab of pain in her ribcage and groaned out loud, wakening fully from her slumber. The weight of her chains had held her body upright, allowing her to keep her stance on the floor. Her feet were in cuffs as well, a chain linked in between them so she could make slight movements and drag her feet as she walked. Meager movement, she thought for a moment. She managed to lean back against the wall behind her as she slept.

The throbbing in her head had slowed and now her vision cleared – and she saw a disgruntled young man in front of her, clad in a suit of dirty, golden armor. There were scratches everywhere – it seemed he had just come back from the battlefield.

He was also the bastard who shot her shoulder.

So the troops have retreated, she thought. Great mutiny.

"You," she snarled, "Karev."

"Yes," he grinned smugly, "Me."

"Fuck you."

"That's all you can say now that you've been captured?" he asked, reaching up to loosen her chains. "The princess said that you have been acting out." He loosened one arm and it quickly fell flaccidly to her side, as though it had been a lifeless attachment – so numb did her arm feel. "She said all you said was 'fuck you, fuck you'…" he laughed now, watching her slump back against the wall as she shook at her lifeless arm. "Not the tough warrior you were always made out to be, now are you, Princesa Torres?" She wanted to retaliate, to punch him now that she had been free, but her arms had no strength. Her body had no strength, she realized, as he began to loosen the other chain.

She felt the blood start to flow normally down her arms now, and was elated at the thought that they had not lost their feeling. But the relief was quickly dismissed as Karev cuffed her wrists together, pulling her by a chain that was attached to it.

"Where are you taking me…" she murmured. It felt strange to suddenly move, she felt as though she would fall over as he tugged at her chains, pulling her with great force and dissatisfaction. He wanted to kill her and she was sure of this.

"The princess' chambers."

Callie laughed softly, "Not a dungeon? Not the execution row?"

To this, Karev only grinned. "There are elements of a dungeon in there," he explained, tugging at her chained hands, "cuffs and chains and the like."

"She's fucked, huh?" Callie mused.

"She is pretty fucked up."

###

She fell hard on her knees as they entered the room, her body too fatigued to even stand without another's force pulling at her. Karev still held the chain that was attached to her cuffed wrists, but made no motion as he stood stiffly behind her.

She looked up now and her eyes felt almost blinded by the bright light of the room. It was red, so red – almost scarlet red, or perhaps a kind of velvet, she thought, as she took in the array of meticulously woven curtains and rugs – the entire room was simply velvet. She glanced over to the sunlight streaming in from the parted curtains before her eyes fell on the princess, who sat on a small couch just beside her bed.

She noticed another bed beside what she presumed was the princess' – it was identical – soft and furnished, albeit smaller – but its main peculiarity was the chain and cuffs connected to it. She flinched for a moment. Was this to be her future?

"Bind her feet," Arizona ordered, without looking up from the book she had been reading.

"They're bound, princess," he said, tugging at her chain for emphasis, "Shall I remove her cuffs?"

"Do not release her hands, Karev," Arizona warned with a tone of severity, "She will break your neck in a matter of seconds."

Karev only scoffed at her warning, using his free hand to gesture widely at her state – the woman on her knees, "You think she could?"

"She likely could."

"She's much too weak for anything."

"Do not underestimate her."

"I'm right here," Callie growled at them, her eyes on the blonde who was perched on her velvet couch, her own eyes still on the faded pages of what Callie presumed to be her journal. "Bitch," she added for effect.

At her remark, and as if upon instinct, Karev rose his hand, but stopped when Arizona rose her own abruptly.

"Do not hit her, she is mine."

"But she disgraced you-"

"I will punish her accordingly," Arizona clarified, closing her book and setting it on the couch. "I will also take it from here, Karev."

"But-"

"You have done enough, you must be tired," she said with a soft smile that Callie had found to be sweet for a hasty moment before her eyes retained their icy glow. She approached them now and stood in front of Callie, cupping her by the chin to raise her head up.

"Hello, Calliope," she greeted. "Are you feeling well?"

"Fine," Callie replied apathetically.

"She is proof that women should not be in battle," Karev chimed in, handing Arizona the chain.

"Silence, Karev."

"You are proof of that as well, princess," he said pointedly, gesturing to her leg. Callie felt a whish of air just above her head and watched as a flash of blue (the princess' arm, she realized) make its way across Karev's face, making him stumble back slightly.

"Out," she said, as he held his cheek in shock, the skin already turning red in the wake of the slap.

"Princess-"

"Out, now."

"I apologize," he said, bowing slightly before exiting. Callie heard the door slam shut and looked back to the floor.

"Look at me," Arizona ordered. She pulled slightly at the woman's chain when she hadn't obeyed. "Can you stand?" she asked, her voice softer this time.

"Yes."

"Stand."

Callie forced herself up, her leg trembling as she put her weight on her foot. She managed to stand upright now and was surprised to be looking down at the blonde. The blonde surveyed her appearance for a moment before remarking, "You are dirty."

"Yes, I am."

"I have a bath running," she informed her. "Come."

###

She was surprised that the blonde was so careless to remove her chains, even for a brief moment. Though she had kept her feet cuffed, her arms were free and she was sure she could break her neck if given the chance. But her arms were weak and she knew this. She could not do much to kill her – and she was sure Arizona was far more shrewd (in both senses, she thought) than she seemed. So she let the blonde take off her dirty, torn clothes (her armor had been long removed) and she watched as she stared at her naked injured body.

The princess knew too, that she could not fight back, at least not now, she figured, as the shorter woman gently wiped Callie's shoulder wound. The brunette had flinched at her touch, surprised to feel her soft graze against it when only earlier, she had been gleefully poking at it while relishing in Callie's pain.

And now she was sitting in a tub of hot water, her hands chained to each end of it while the blonde washed her body meticulously. She couldn't help but relish in her touch, the softness of it, the care she took with it.

"Your hair is quite long," Arizona noted, running her fingers through the wet strands, "beautiful, too." She poured more hot water on her, her fingertips nearing her ears. She stroked under them and Callie shivered at the strangely pleasant sensation. "Beautiful Calliope," Arizona mused.

"What am I," Callie murmured, pulling her neck away from the woman, "your fucking pet?"

"My prisoner."

"Your pet, then."

She heard Arizona chuckle behind her, "You are just mine."

Callie scoffed at her remark, but Arizona only continued, "And you must be clean."

"Why must I need to be clean," she growled under her breath, her energy coming back to her.

"You must."

They were reduced to silence now, as Arizona continued to wash the dirt from the brunette's body. Callie wondered why she was here, why she was still alive. She thought back to Arizona's bed and realized that it was meant for her. They were truly going to use her as a scapegoat for her father's surrender.

Pathetic, she thought. Especially for Arizona Robbins.

She heard tales of the great Arizona Robbins.

"You fought," Callie said suddenly, "have you not? You fought. Before. I have heard stories, tales of it. What happened?" she asked and as if it just came to her, she answered, "Your leg?"

Arizona remained silent before confirming, "Yes."

They said nothing more, and Arizona only washed her in silence. When the bath had been finished, the blonde sat the naked woman down on the side of the tub as she dried her off. She then unrolled bandages and strapped them on her, treating her injuries as though she had been fighting for her own army.

Her touches were light but delicate and they made Callie's body erupt in goosebumps. She had felt the pains of battle, the injuries taking its toll on her body, but she had never felt such a strange, infatuating sensation come from the fingers of a noble blonde woman.

Callie found her behavior to be strange. She hadn't dressed her, she had done nothing. She brought her back to her room now and chained her against her bed post. There seemed to be chains in the most ridiculous of places.

"What might you be doing," Callie asked, though her tone was accusing. She never really _asked_ questions.

"Have you fucked?"

"What?" Callie was startled by the suddenly invasive inquiry.

"Have you fucked before, Calliope?"

"What of it?"

"What do you think of it?" Arizona asked, and now she loosened her own gown, the dress falling in a heap around her legs. Callie saw her fake leg – _prosthetics, _they were called. It had not looked especially deformed as she had thought it to be. Just an extension of the blonde's body.

Her body was pale, milky white – and she could see the blonde's round breasts and the pink of her nipples through the thin, azure slip that she had on. She walked up to Callie now and the brunette stumbled back, as though she had somewhere to run to. She suddenly felt nervous – nervous by the sudden darkness in the blonde's blue eyes, unnerved by her suddenly racing heart and the burning between her legs.

"Do you know why I'm keeping you, Calliope?"

"W, why?"

"I like your body – the feel of it, the boldness, the ruggedness," she said, running her fingers over Callie's fading scratches, "and the firmness," she added, sliding her hands down Callie's bare thighs, making the taller woman tremble against her touch, "your curves, your body," she murmured, her face close against the prisoner's. "I like it all, I relish in it, every flinch, every movement."

Callie let out a trembling breath and watched her dark blue eyes peer at her own. "I had that thought when you tried to kill me," Arizona said.

Callie laughed at her remark, despite her position, "Your final thought was how your assassin felt against your body?"

"It wasn't my final thought," Arizona corrected, "But, yes."

Callie laughed again, bitterly this time, and she had opened her mouth with the intention to further insult the blonde, but it stammered off into a surprised moan when she suddenly felt the blonde's fingers slip between her legs, rubbing her softly.

"You're wet," Arizona determined. "Did that excite you?"

"N, no," Callie murmured. She felt her legs weaken and slumped back onto the post, suddenly having the desire to lay down.

"Have you fucked?" Arizona asked again, "Or am I to be your first?"

"I have," Callie gasped, as Arizona slipped inside of her, "fucked."

"Oh," the blonde pouted, "how disappointing." With her free hand, she cupped Callie's chin and brought her lips to her own, kissing her with a bout of passion and rage. She slipped deeper now and Callie could feel herself clenching tightly around her, surprised that she was still standing. She felt her legs spread open by Arizona's own, allowing the woman more room to enter her.

"Kiss me, Calliope."

"N," Callie gasped, feeling the blonde push relentlessly inside of her, "n, no."

"Kiss me."

"Fuc, fuck you."

"I'm fucking you."

"Sh, shut ," Callie gasped, throwing her head back against the bedpost. She immediately felt Arizona's lips on her neck, kissing and biting and grazing. She heard the sounds of Arizona's fingers slipping in and out of her, thrusting deeply and quickly and she felt herself weakening and letting go.

She felt herself coming and she heard the blonde whisper into her ear, "You are very tight." She couldn't help but allow herself to groan at the remark, and tremble at the blonde's fingers, feeling herself clench around her, feeling her soft breasts and hard nipples press against her chest through the fabric of her slip. She suddenly felt the urge to touch, to grab onto her, and she pulled at her hands, only to feel them bound.

"Kiss me," she heard herself rasping. And surprisingly, the blonde had obeyed, albeit roughly pulling her hair down so she could meet her gaze. She kissed her hard, passionately, feeling her tongue slide into her mouth with force and fervor.

God, she wanted to touch.

Touch something.

This prisoner thing wouldn't be terrible, she thought. Certainly not, she realized, feeling the blonde kiss down her body slowly and sensuously to where she felt herself heated again.

She could be a prisoner.

If only for today.


End file.
